


Lines Beneath Our Skin

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur is a film star, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Merlin is a tattoo artist, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Tattoos, Very Thin Plot, i am terrible at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: A recently divorced Arthur brings Merlin home from a bar for what he thinks will be a one night stand. Except there’s something about Merlin that has Arthur tracking him down months later - and he’s pretty sure it isn’t just the exquisite dragon tattoo that Merlin has on his back.





	Lines Beneath Our Skin

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so [Guessimaclotpole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guessimaclotpole/pseuds/Guessimaclotpole) is the world's best beta. She's also a great friend, and an even better writer. If you aren't reading her work [It's A Safeguarding Issue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907086/chapters/37077474) you really, really should be. It's excellent. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I am not making any pennies from this work.
> 
> The title is from a Gaslight Anthem song, [Meet Me By the River's Edge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKL-BYhRJu8)

“Holy fuck.” Merlin says, practically choking on his drink. “You're Arthur Pendragon.”

“No, I'm not.” Arthur Pendragon says, thoroughly invading Merlin’s personal space. Merlin stares at him, unable to believe that Arthur bloody Pendragon is standing right next to him.

“Oh, aye, ye are.” Merlin may be on his fifth drink, but he's not daft. This is Arthur Pendragon, film star. And he's standing roughly two inches away. And he's _so much hotter_ in person.

“No.” Arthur Pendragon says, his deep voice curling through Merlin, ”Not tonight. Tonight I am ‘Stranger in Hotel Room’.”

Merlin looks down as Arthur Pendragon slides his cupped hand across the surface of the bar then lifts it, revealing a hotel business card with a room number scribbled on it, and a plastic room key. Merlin blinks once then looks up at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Does that line ever actually work on anyone?”

“Guess we'll find out.” He shrugs, holding Merlin’s eye for a long moment, and then Merlin is watching Arthur Pendragon walk away through the crowded club.

Before he even has time to react Freya and Gwaine step into the space left behind by Arthur Pendragon. Merlin pockets the business and key cards surreptitiously.

"Bloke in the bogs reckons Arthur Pendragon is here tonight.” Gwaine says, looking around, trying to spot him. Merlin says nothing. His mind is filled with images of Arthur, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his thin, strong fingers.

“Don't tell him that, Gwaine! He'll freak out, make a tit of himself, and we'll be thrown out. You know Pendragon is Merlin's Celebrity One True Love.” Freya teases.

Merlin is barely listening. What the fuck is he going to do? Is he actually going to go to _Arthur Pendragon’s_ hotel room? Arthur, of course, is very recently divorced - Merlin has been following the tabloid articles feverishly. Unfaithful wife, heartbreak, tears. And now, apparently, revenge sex with strange men in bars.

Is Merlin really going to let himself be used like that?

Merlin flashes back once more to Arthur’s hands on the bar, the mischievous glint in those blue eyes, and those endearingly crooked teeth.

Merlin listens to his two best friends discussing the pros and cons of having a recently single Arthur Pendragon in the same city as Merlin, who hasn’t been shy about lusting after him. Neither of them seem to notice that Merlin isn’t joining in the conversation. Which is strange because usually you can't get Merlin to shut up about Arthur Pendragon.

After ten minutes, Merlin makes up his mind. “I think I'm going to call it a night, guys.”

Freya and Gwaine look at him, shocked. He’s always the last one home after a night out, never, ever the first to leave. Then someone twigs.

“You’ve pulled!” Freya says, her eyes wide.

Merlin says nothing, but his friends know him well enough.

“You _have_ pulled,” Gwaine says, “you jammy git. We’re in Glasgow for one bloody night and you’re off to get your hole.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Merlin shouts over his shoulder as he leaves the club. “Don't wait up!”

Just opposite the taxi rank outside the club is a 24 hour newsagents. Merlin pops in, buys a bottle of water, a box of condoms, and a travel toothbrush kit. The man behind the counter gives him a very knowing look, but Merlin ignores him.

Downing the bottle of water, Merlin jumps the queue at the taxi rank, giving the fingers to the group of guys he’s cut in front of, then tells the taxi driver to take him to the Carlton George Hotel. He’s running completely on adrenaline. As he settles into the taxi for the short ride his phone buzzes with a text alert.

_If you’re off to shag Arthur bloody Pendragon I will never speak to you again._

Well, what Gwaine doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Merlin pays the taxi driver then smiles politely at the butler who opens the door to the hotel for him. He’s never stayed anywhere where someone’s entire job is to open and shut a door, but he thinks he could get used to it.

Making a stop in the men’s toilets to check his hair and brush his teeth, twice, Merlin then takes the lift to the top floor of the hotel. When he exits the lift he’s unsurprised to see there is only one guest room here. Thinking that now is as good a time as any, Merlin takes three steps forward and knocks confidently on the door.

Arthur Pendragon answers in a few seconds. He’s barefoot and his tie is loosened. “Call me Nathan.” Merlin says by way of introduction.

“Not your real name?” Arthur says, shutting the door behind them.

“Well, we can't both be ‘stranger in hotel room’, can we?” Merlin says, as Arthur slides the door locks into place. Merlin goes to the windows and looks out over Glasgow city centre.

“So, Nathan.” Arthur says then, coming up behind Merlin quietly.

“Let’s not.” Merlin interrupts, turning to face the man with whom he has been in heavy lust since he turned thirteen and Arthur played a mostly shirtless Peter Pan in a children’s film with questionably adult undertones.

“Not what?” Arthur asks.

“Pleasantries,” Merlin says, shaking his head, “let’s just not.”

“Well, thank fuck for that.” Arthur says, stepping into Merlin and bringing their mouths together almost violently. Merlin wastes no time at all. He undoes Arthur’s tie the rest of the way and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Trust Arthur Pendragon to wear a shirt and tie on a night out, but at least it means Merlin doesn’t need to stop kissing him to get his shirt off, which he does, deftly.

Pressing himself against a shirtless Arthur Pendragon, Merlin lets loose a small moan, and angles his mouth to kiss him even deeper. Arthur has one hand in the short hair at the back of his head, and the second is between them, running along Merlin’s torso, raising his shirt up. They break apart to pull Merlin’s shirt over his head, and Arthur stops short.

For a second Merlin convinces himself that Arthur has changed his mind, then he remembers: the tattoo, of course. Is it strange that Merlin often forgets the tattoo until someone sees it for the first time?

The wings of the dragon stretch down Merlin’s arms nearly to the wrist, the arched neck and head of the dragon gracing his left shoulder and down to his collarbone, and the dragon’s back feet are visible at the very edges of his hip bones, the dragon’s tail curling up his right side and along his ribs. The body of the dragon and the wings cover his back and feathers out along his ribcage. Merlin had designed the tattoo and his cousin and friends had inked it for a competition (that they’d won), and it is a thing of beauty. Merlin feels glorious in the dim light under Arthur’s gaze as he turns Merlin to see the whole tattoo.

“Fuck.” Arthur exhales, palming himself through his trousers. Merlin steps against Arthur again, running his hands along Arthur’s backside underneath his trousers and removing them, bending to run his tongue along Arthur’s shaft as Arthur, with a gasp, steps out of his clothes.

[--]

Arthur is mesmerised by the movement of the tattoo in the city lights streaming through the window. Every movement Nathan makes, every stretching muscle, twisting sinew, and moving bone brings another aspect of the tattoo to the forefront, and the ink seems to come alive as though the dragon is hosting Nathan's body and not the other way around. The claws grip and shift as Arthur runs his thumb over Nathan’s hip bones. It’s tail flutters along the bones of Nathan's rib cage every time he inhales deeply - Arthur’s teeth catching a nipple and biting _just barely_ too hard. When Arthur circles an oiled finger around Nathan’s entrance before inserting it by millimeters, Nathan’s whole body shudders and his head falls back, the dragon’s head seeming to curl and raise to attention as Nathan's neck flashes black ink and pale skin in the amber glow of the streetlights outside.

Arthur runs his hands and his tongue over every inch of the tattoo, his eyes open, studying. What seems a scaled body becomes something almost like feathers or shadows on the leaves of trees, secrets layered on secrets. What Arthur first sees only as the leathery arch of a wing across a shoulder is revealed, under careful study, to be a pattern of impossibly delicate roses. What appears as the mouth of the dragon lying along a collarbone is actually a silhouette of a knife held tight in a skeletal hand. Arthur's eyes ache from trying to see every detail at once.

Nathan settles onto his knees before Arthur and arches his back, spine peaking beneath his skin, and the dragon breathes in the darkness, flexing and writhing beneath Arthur as he presses the head of his sheathed cock against Nathan and sinks in, slowly. The play of the light over the ink and the defined muscles sliding beneath the canvas of skin is a maddening sight and Arthur moves within Nathan even as Nathan's hitched breaths plead for slowness.

Arthur surrenders control, as Nathan’s muscles clench and they are both reduced to wordless gasps and breaths as Arthur finds the right angle and fucks Nathan deeply. When Nathan begins to shudder with release the ink on his skin shimmers like a heat haze and Arthur thrusts in long, controlled motions, mesmerised once more by the beauty beneath him until moments later he, too, is coming, his hips bucking and his hands splayed across the inked body of the dragon.

[--]

Merlin wakes briefly in the night and is not entirely surprised to feel Arthur's fingers tracing the ink on his back, and he turns gently into the touch before falling back to sleep.

In the thin light of dawn breaking Merlin takes the lead, opening himself up again with a practiced hand, putting the condom on Arthur and mounting him, his back to Arthur and his face to the rising sun. As expected, Arthur does not last long, but Merlin doesn’t mind - he’s exhausted and he has a train to catch. He reaches to finish himself off but before he can he feels Arthur’s hands on him, lowering him to the bed, and before he knows it Arthur is licking Merlin into his mouth, moaning as though he has been waiting his whole life for something like this. Merlin’s breath catches and he wills himself not to loose control. He isn’t wearing a condom and the last thing he wants to do is… well, actually, that’s just about the thing he wants most in the world in this instant, but he tries his hardest to focus.

As sunlight begins to pour into the hotel room, highlighting Arthur’s hair with a sparkling golden glow, Merlin wonders, not for the first time, whether he’s hallucinated this whole event. Arthur is so beautiful, so talented, and so obviously enjoying sucking Merlin off, Merlin has to wonder what he’s done in his life to deserve this night and this morning.

Arthur looks up at him, his blue eyes dark shadows and his face backlit in the almost blinding sunlight, and Merlin unravels, both pulling away from Arthur’s lips and pushing Arthur’s shoulder to try to separate them in time, but Arthur pushes his hand away and clutches Merlin’s hip, pulling him closer. Arthur’s eyes lock with Merlin’s as Merlin shudders and surrenders, Arthur swallowing, a challenge in his eyes.

As Merlin’s shuddering subsides he finally blinks, his eyes dry from being unwilling to look away for so long. Arthur rises and kisses him, Merlin tasting his own salty tang on Arthur’s tongue, before leaving the room. Merlin hears a toilet flush and the water of the shower starting. As unwilling as he is to leave the warmth of the bed, he needs to shower first and leave as soon as possible, otherwise he might never leave at all.

[--]

Nathan insisted on showering first, and Arthur let him. He ordered room service - plenty of different options to ensure he had something that Nathan would enjoy. Over breakfast Arthur will wheedle Nathan’s real name out of him. He needs to know who this man is with the impossibly lifelike dragon stretched over his skin. He needs to know who this man is who’d, for the first time since the divorce, made Arthur feel like he didn’t need to resent his entire existence.

So, shower, breakfast, name. That was how it would go. And, hopefully, the man would stay with him for the day and a second night, the two of them coming together again and again.

When Arthur exits the shower and walks into the living room, towelling himself off, he sees the man has left - his clothes are gone from the floor and, on the dining table where there’s enough food to serve a small crowd of people, there’s a torn-in-half business card with “your secret is safe with me. xx ‘Nathan’” written in neat black marker. The business name and address has been torn away, leaving behind only half of a logo and the letters a-t-t-o.

“Fuck.” Arthur says to the empty room, feeling angry and bereft. “Fuck.” Without a name or a place or anything to go on basically at all there is no way whatsoever Arthur will ever see the man again. He should never have left him alone. “Fuck.”

[--]

In the months following his affair with Arthur Pendragon, Merlin’s obsession with the celebrity has only grown. He does his best to keep his addiction a secret, but he’s sure his friends, family, and colleagues are all aware of how deeply Merlin has fallen. No longer content with the tabloid newspaper coverage of Arthur’s life, Merlin now devours every website blurb and rumour with a voracious appetite. He’s uninterested in the salacious information about the ongoing divorce - all he wants to know is whether Arthur is in a relationship with anyone.

In a way Merlin’s deepening obsession reaffirms the story he’d told his friends - Yes, he’d slept with someone in Glasgow. No, of course it wasn’t Arthur Pendragon. In another regard Merlin is starting to go completely insane.

He carefully dissects every interview for some word or phrase that might intone that Arthur was as deeply affected by their encounter as Merlin was, but he knows that he’s ridiculous to assume Arthur ever regarded him as anything more than a placeholder. An experiment.

The thought keeps him up at night.

Either way, about six months after their encounter, Merlin decides that for the sake of his sanity and his personal relationships he has to sever all ties with Arthur Pendragon. He stops reading the newspapers. He unsubscribes from every gossip website. He even unfollows Arthur on Twitter and Instagram. Merlin tries to even forget the name, which doesn’t work and he’s kidding no one, but he tries.

Instead he throws himself into his work. His business, which had blossomed into nearly unmanageable levels after they had won the competition with Merlin’s dragon tattoo over a year ago, has levelled out to a consistent level of mind-blowingly busy. The second location, run by his cousin, is going smoothly as well, so Merlin finds it easy to drown himself with appointments, consultations, art, and ink.

[--]

Arthur manages to make it two weeks before giving up on trying to forget the blue-eyed, dark-haired, tattooed man from the hotel room in Glasgow. Twice he almost goes home with strangers simply because they have tattooed lines on their skin. It is beginning to become a fetish, with Arthur paging through Inked magazine during layovers and following studios on social media hoping, just hoping to get a glimpse of the dragon tattoo again - and the man wearing it.

Months pass, Arthur busy filming on location in Belarus, working harder than he ever has before. The news of his divorce has faded into the background which suits him, because if he never hears his ex’s name again it will be too soon. During the day Arthur focuses on his work, and keeps himself distracted. At night, alone in his hotel room, Arthur spends his time thinking of Nathan and finding new ways to pleasure himself. Ways he would never have imagined while he had been married to her.

He’s sure that not a single day has gone by since Glasgow that he hasn’t imagined he and Nathan in bed together. And it takes every control he has not to just task his PA with finding him. But their tryst is one of the most significant things that has ever happened to Arthur, and he wants to keep that to himself as long as he can. Once he has returned to England, he doubles down on his efforts to find Nathan. He makes a list of every tattoo parlour in the whole of Scotland, intending to, eventually, just turn up at all of them, one at a time.

In the end Arthur finds Nathan by accident. While accompanying the costume director for his latest film to a second hand store in London, Arthur, bored, riffles through a stack of magazines at the back of the store while the costume guy explains his vision for the film for the nine millionth time. About halfway down the stack is a worn copy of a tattoo magazine from over a year ago. Arthur flips through it lazily and then his breath catches and he experiences the most rapid and startling erection he's had since puberty. Ignoring the unignorable bulge in his trousers, Arthur lifts the magazine to look closer. There is the man Arthur had slept with in Glasgow. The photo is a centerfold, and the man is leaned against an industrial brick wall with his arms raised above his head, his back to the camera and his tattoo the obvious star of the show. Absurdly Arthur wants to put his mouth on the magazine page and lick.

Laughing to himself at the insanity of that desire, Arthur turns the page to read the accompanying article. Within which he learns the man’s name, Merlin, and the details behind his astonishing tattoo. He, along with five artists from his studio, had participated in a reality television competition. He had designed the dragon and been the canvas while five artists inked him at the same time. It had been his first tattoo, and, yes, it had hurt a lot.

Arthur reads the rest of the article and learns the studio is called Avalon Aesthetics Piercing & Tattoo, located in Scotland. Far enough away from Glasgow, Arthur notes, that he must have been there for a reason.

No longer able to ignore his state of arousal Arthur excuses himself from the costume director's company and leaves the store by the fire exit. Standing the the alley behind the building he googles Merlin, hoping beyond hope to find a clip of this television show. As he scrolls through search results he flags a taxi and heads back to the hotel. His heart is racing as he locks himself into his suite, finally pressing play on a video he's queued up. Merlin lays on the table, his bare torso gleaming pale under television spotlights. His eyes are closed and every few seconds there's a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. One of his colleagues is working on the wing down his left arm, twisting him into what was surely an uncomfortable position and focusing completely. A second colleague is working on the right wrist. A third is inking the body of the dragon down the corridor of Merlin’s spine. A fourth, the other arm. Arthur watches the video, his dominant hand subconsciously unbuckling his trousers as time lapses and the fifth artist manipulates Merlin’s head until his neck is taut then begins work on the knife blade dragon’s head along his collarbone.

Arthur knows that whatever else he does in his life, he has to find this man and meet him properly. Kiss him again. Fuck him again. Run his hands and his tongue over the ink again. Whatever else happens - he just has to.

Over the following weeks as Arthur sits through the tedium of a film set on location somewhere too hot for his British composition, Arthur carries the centerfold picture with him, planning to fly to Scotland as soon as possible.

[--]

“So I’ve sent you a file with three options. These are rough sketches - the finished design will be much more detailed, but I didn’t want to spend too much time on something you don’t like to begin with. So take a look at the options and let me know which one you like best and I can work on details. If you could get back to me soon, please, as I need time to work on the design before your appointment next week. Thanks.”

Merlin leaves the message with a weary voice, rubbing his tired eyes. It isn’t the first time they’ve done long-distance designing prior to a client coming to them from out of town, but it’s the first time Merlin’s had so little to go on as far as design requirements.

Of course, “draw me a dragon” is something Merlin has heard possibly two hundred times since the show aired, but this guy, this fucking guy, had just left Merlin a message saying three words; arm, dragon, sword. Merlin had tried to get him on the phone but had been communicating with voicemail systems since then with no further guidance.

Of the three designs Merlin had sent he liked the last one the best. Perhaps it was inspired by his having someone named Arthur on his mind literally 24/7, but his design did seem to have something of mythical legend to it. Merlin had drawn a broad sword with a dragon clinging to it. He’d shown the design to Morgana who had unhelpfully pointed out that the dragon looked startlingly similar to another dragon Merlin might be familiar with and, after that, Merlin had lost his enthusiasm for the whole project. Because it was true. And no matter how many times Merlin redrew the design, the dragon was unmistakably his dragon.

As it is there are now less than four days before this unknown man will be arriving at Avalon for his appointment, and Merlin still has no fucking clue what he’s supposed to be inking. So he decides, instead of waiting for the man to reply with his favourite out of three, he’ll spend a little more time on each of the designs - hoping to get them closer to a finished product before the beginning of the week.

And although that is his intention Merlin finds himself devoting his time to one design in particular - the dragon cradling the sword almost like a lover. It’s an image he can’t shake, and, in spite of Morgana’s teasing, Merlin finds that no matter how hard he tries to deviate from the original, the dragon in this new design resembles the dragon gracing his own skin.

[--]

“Merlin, your 12 o’clock is here.” Freya says, peering around the back wall of the studio. Merlin closes his eyes and sighs. The vague dragon sword guy is here. Fuck. He stands to go, plastering his Customer Smile on his face, but Freya stops him with a hand on his chest. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me, please. I promise I won’t tell Gwaine or Morgie.”

“What is it?” Merlin asks, brought up short by Freya’s unusually stern voice.

“Did you or did you not fuck Arthur Pendragon when we were in Glasgow?”

“God, Freya, this question again? How many times do I have to tell you…” Merlin says, now annoyed with Freya for delaying him. He has a client waiting, after all.

“Do not lie to me, Merlin.” Freya says, and she’s still stern with him which means that she’s sure she already knows the answer. Merlin considers telling her it was him in the hotel that night, but nowhere in all of his feverish tabloid searching, has it ever been speculated that Arthur Pendragon might be gay, so he’s kept his mouth firmly shut.

“I. Did. Not.” Merlin says, hating to lie to her but also still annoyed with her sudden grilling. It had been so long ago that they’d been to Glasgow - why the renewed interest? Freya lets him go and he walks into the studio and sees why Freya is suddenly interested to know the truth behind Merlin’s Glaswegian detour - Arthur Pendragon is standing beside Merlin’s station, one hand on the back of the chair and the other at his mouth where he chews a fingernail nervously.

Merlin walks over to him slowly, aware of not only his colleagues’ eyes on him but everyone in the entire studio - canvas and artist alike. Gwaine and Freya especially are just _staring_. Apart from the background hum of machines, the studio is almost silent.

“Hello.” Merlin says, stretching out his hand to shake Arthur’s. Merlin hopes his calm is read as genuine, because inside he's screaming. How can Arthur be here? How could he have found Merlin? He'd have had to aggressively search for him. Which implied that Arthur Pendragon aggressively wanted to see him, Merlin, again. Merlin’s mouth goes dry as he holds on too long to those fingers which, not too long ago, had been inside him.

“Again.” Arthur says, loudly, and he holds Merlin's hand right back. Merlin can feel himself blushing. Under a false name and assuming he would never see Arthur again, he'd been completely unreserved that night in the hotel, needy and unrestrained, arrogant and eager. But here Arthur is, in the real world, and Merlin feels exposed, almost naked under the bright studio lights. “Merlin. Or do I still need to call you Nathan?”

Merlin smiles through his embarrassment, “Not unless I need to call you Stranger in Tattoo Studio.” Merlin keeps his voice low, not wanting anyone in the room to infer anything from their greeting. Though their imaginations are probably running wild. As is Merlin’s.

Arthur laughs, the sound rolling through the quiet studio like thunder. And as he and Arthur continue to stand there, holding on to each other's hands, the phone begins to ring. Merlin takes his time looking away from Arthur, and when he finally does, Gwaine has answered the phone and is standing at the back of the shop, brandishing the handset towards Merlin.

“Merlin, it's for you.” Gwaine shouts. Merlin, knowing it's not a real call but grateful for the opportunity to get some space and clear his head, politely excuses himself and practically runs into the office at the back of the shop, shutting the door behind him and Gwaine.

“What the actual fuck is Arthur Pendragon doing in our shop?” Gwaine asks, his voice at least an octave higher than usual. Merlin doesn’t answer, he just stands with his hand on the back of his chair and tries to remember how to breathe. “How are you not passing out right now? The only reason you wouldn’t faint on the spot when meeting Arthur Pendragon for the first time is if you’d actually already met him and were lying to us about it.” Gwaine continues, and he sounds both pissed off and proud.

“You did shag him in Glasgow you filthy liar.” Freya says, coming into the office and joining their conversation. Merlin ignores her, too. He takes a few more, calming breaths, tries to forget the taste and feel of Arthur's cock, and walks back out onto the shop floor, leaving Freya and Gwaine behind to shout at each other, for his refusal to speak to them was as good as an admission as far as they were concerned. The clients they had abandoned at their stations don't even seem to have noticed, they are all staring at Arthur.

[--]

“I know we haven’t spoken much, but did you manage to narrow your choices down after our last phone conversation?” Merlin asks, grabbing the folder of designs and handing them to Arthur. Merlin ( _not Nathan_ ) is as stunning as ever, his piercing blue eyes searing into Arthur, his smile and those full, red lips that are begging to be kissed; he is almost impossibly good looking. Then there’s the tattoo. Better in person than Arthur even remembered, and Arthur's eyes cling to the flashes he can see, even the shadows beneath Merlin's plain white shirt. It is making Arthur fervently wish they were alone in the studio. He wants to taste Merlin's skin again. Immediately.

In an attempt to distract himself from the walking sexual fantasy that is his tattoo artist, Arthur looks down at the designs and picks out the one he had chosen. The sword blade is etched with runic symbols, and the dragon climbing it reminds him of Merlin. He knows it’s just as foolish to get this tattoo as it would be to get the name _Merlin_ tattooed on him, but Arthur doesn’t even care. If he never saw Merlin again, never had sex with him again, Arthur still wants to have this reminder of the first, and only, man he's ever been with, the first affair he'd had after his divorce. He doubts there will ever be negative feelings attached to that memory, so he chooses that design.

When Arthur hands the design to Merlin he can see Merlin's entire body react. A shiver goes through him and he trembles for the briefest moment. Arthur hopes he is remembering their affair, Arthur's fingers on him, his tongue and teeth.

While Merlin puts final touches on the image, Arthur has been handed a sheaf of papers to read and sign. Merlin had emailed him these documents already, but Arthur can tell Merlin is nervous, so he gives the man some time to come to grips with the surprise of Arthur turning up out of nowhere, and pretends to read the papers before he signs them.

As he’s preparing his materials, Merlin scribbles a note on a scrap of paper which he thrusts into Arthur's field of vision before disappearing to the back of the shop.

Arthur reads the note, and he stops breathing, his eyes seeking out the beautiful man where he stands by a machine that is copying Arthur's design onto thermal paper. Merlin looks normal, calm, and not at all as though he has just handed Arthur a note that reads, “ _Even if you've changed your mind about the tattoo, we should still fuck._ ”

Arthur sits down in the chair and takes a few steadying breaths. He wants Merlin so badly he isn't sure he can physically sit here for hours with Merlin's hands on him. He might pass out from the strain of not bending Merlin over his work surface and pounding into him.

Merlin returns with the transfer paper and sets about gathering his equipment. Arthur clears his throat just as Merlin begins to explain some of what he is doing. The entire studio is still eerily quiet, and everyone except the artists are openly staring at Arthur, the artists glancing over as casually as they can while still working.

“Sorry,” Arthur says, quietly, leaning towards Merlin, “May I use the loo before I settle in.”

“The toilets?” Merlin replies, loudly enough that people standing outside the studio could hear him. Arthur laughs at the ridiculous attempt at an alibi. “Down that corridor, last door on the left.” Merlin says in a quieter voice, and as Arthur walks away Merlin heads over to the music system and cranks up the volume.

[--]

Merlin had not sent Arthur to the toilets. As he walks past Gwaine's station he hears Gwaine mutter, “First door on the right, actually.” with a wicked grin on his face. Merlin gives Gwaine the fingers behind his back as he follows Arthur down the corridor.

Sex at the studio is, of course, expressly forbidden, but Merlin thinks if there was ever a time for him to break his own rule, that time is now. There is no way whatsoever that Merlin will be able to concentrate on his task with how aroused he is. He needs some relief, and it seems that Arthur is willing to give it to him.

When Merlin opens the door to the storage cupboard Arthur Pendragon (Merlin still can hardly believe it) is standing there, unbuttoning his trousers with an expression on his face that makes Merlin's already engorged member twitch in anticipation.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you?” Arthur asks, as Merlin takes off Arthur's t-shirt and thrusts his trousers down over his arse and his erection. Merlin tears his own shirt off, then covers Arthur’s mouth with his, because if Arthur keeps talking like this Merlin is going to come in his trousers. Arthur pulls away, and the glint in his eye makes Merlin certain that he knows exactly the effect his words are having on Merlin. “It was a magazine article in the end. You’re the centrefold, stood against a brick wall, looking over your shoulder.”

Merlin knows the article. He’d been teased endlessly by his friends that the photograph was nearly pornographic.

Merlin begins to kneel, intending to suck Arthur off, the pure pleasure of that act surely enough to bring him to completion too, when Arthur surprises him and pushes him down onto a stack of boxes, lowering himself between Merlin’s legs.

Arthur puts his mouth on Merlin, spreading Merlin’s legs wide with his hands. Merlin, surprised, closes his mouth firmly over the stuttered cry threatening to escape him. Arthur’s lips close over him and Merlin’s eyes roll back in his head. Arthur replaces his mouth with his hands and speaks, “I think I’ve wanked to that picture every day since I found it.”

“Fuck Arthur, keep talking like that and this will take seconds.” Merlin says, an attempt at an apology, but Arthur just smiles that wicked smile of his and takes Merlin deep in his throat.

[--]

Arthur is drowning in pleasure. The smell of Merlin, the scratch of hair against Arthur’s nose as he pulls Merlin’s delicious cock as far down his throat as he can, the sound of Merlin moaning with his teeth clenched, trying desperately to be quiet. Arthur is suddenly overcome with the desire, no the need, to make Merlin shout loudly enough for everyone in the room next door to hear him.

Merlin fists one of his hands in Arthur’s hair, and puts the second one over his mouth, smothering his moans even further as Arthur applies himself thoroughly to the task of sucking Merlin’s brains out through his prick. Arthur pulls back again, fondling Merlin’s balls gently and watching as Merlin, wide-eyed, sits up to watch Arthur intently.

“I’ve imagined fucking you against that wall. Pulling you off as I slam roughly into you. Your hands scraped raw against the brick.” Arthur exhales heavily in reaction to Merlin completely falling apart before his eyes, and knows that the moment is close. As he returns to deep-throating Merlin, he fingers Merlin’s puckered hole as light as a feather, keeping his eyes on Merlin’s pale, blissed-out face as he comes, actually screaming Arthur’s name as Arthur sucks every drop from him and pulls away, smiling.

“No need to be quiet now, eh?” Arthur smirks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Oh, god, Arthur! Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry.” Merlin looks so genuinely cut up that Arthur can't laugh at him. So instead he takes his own erection into his hand and stands, pulling roughly, leaning over Merlin's mostly naked body and whispering in his ear.

“I want them to hear you. I want them to know how desperate you are for me, and how good I can make you feel. I want your curly haired friend to go home tonight and fuck his partner while thinking about what we were doing in here that could have made you scream my name like that.”

Merlin’s eyes widen as Arthur talks, and he stands, too, pushing against Arthur until they're standing barely an inch apart, Arthur's hand pumping between them.

“So now it's my turn?” Merlin asks, a challenge in his eyes, and he wraps his own hand around Arthur's cock, his calloused fingers a welcome change to the familiarity of Arthur's smooth hands.

Merlin pulls roughly, twisting his hand and making Arthur's knees go weak. Somehow Arthur ends up pushed against a countertop, and Merlin jerks his chin, ordering Arthur up. Arthur lifts himself gracelessly and Merlin slots against him, pulling him into an absolutely filthy kiss, his hand still working between them.

The Merlin pushes Arthur's legs apart and shoulders between them, Arthur entranced again by the shift and tilt of the dragon's body on Merlin's skin. Merlin guides Arthur right to the edge of the counter and pushes against his legs again. Arthur obeys the command, feeling weak with desire and completely exposed. As Merlin drops his head down Arthur closes his eyes, prepared for the feel of Merlin's sinful mouth on his throbbing length.

What he doesn't expect is to feel Merlin's tongue slide over his hole, and the shock of the welcome sensation wrings a moan from him that is so long and intense that Arthur runs out of breath. With his tireless hands still at work, Merlin licks at Arthur's hole, laving him with soft strokes, probing less gently, and circling his tongue in a dizzying maneuver that drives Arthur completely fucking crazy with lust and he comes in mere minutes, keening Merlin's name in a loud, unbroken litany, his whole body shuddering with the release.

Merlin raises a cocky grin, licking Arthur's come from his tattooed wrist. “I think they're going to be more interested in what I was doing to make _Arthur Pendragon_ sob my name like a curse word.”

_Fuck._

[--]

When they walk back onto the studio floor absolutely no one's eyes are on them. Gwaine is even looking away, but his ears are red, which means that his and Arthur's antics haven't gone unnoticed.

He can't even begin to care. He feels boneless and triumphant. It turns out that he doesn't need anonymity to lower his inhibitions, all he needs is Arthur.

Now that they're both sated, Merlin can more easily concentrate on giving Arthur the tattoo he wants. The final prep work is done in a flash and Arthur is sat in the chair, arm up on a table, in no time.

“Do you want to know what it says?” Merlin asks as he completes his final transfer check before starting the line work.

“The runes?” Arthur asks, his eyebrows knitted.

“Aye.” Merlin smiles, putting on his black gloves and laying some ointment over the design.

“It says Avalon.” Arthur replies, matter of factly. Merlin blushes at his own forwardness. He'd been signing his work,  when he drew the design, thinking that it wouldn't matter. “I am glad you choose the Anglo-Saxon runic alphabet, it's much more historically accurate.”

 “Nerd.” Merlin says, laughing.

“You're the one who drew this design.” Arthur says, smiling.

“Well, only because ‘Take Me Up’ wouldn't have fit.”

“Nor would ‘Cast Me Away’, I imagine.” Arthur replies, then, perhaps noticing the look of disbelief on Merlin's face he says, “What? Surely you don't believe that your mother is the only person in the world obsessed enough by legends to name you after one?”

[--]

The tattooing process was not painful. The first minute or two had been uncomfortable, but Arthur had had to have a full body wax once to fit into a rubber suit, and this was nothing like that.

In fact, Arthur was quite enjoying himself. He and Merlin were not short of things to say to each other. They laughed and joked and teased each other, discussing topics from movies and music to books and poetry. Arthur kept finding excuses to touch him, and Merlin blushed every time. When Merlin was concentrating too hard to speak, Arthur enjoyed watching his facial expressions, and the play of his muscles as he worked. He was thoroughly glad they had gotten off together before this, because Arthur was distracted enough by Merlin as it was. He thought he could actually become addicted to the sight of Merlin's right wrist, and he was fascinated by the contrast of ink there beside the nearly translucent skin over bone. He wanted to suck that bone until the skin bruised.

“You know I'm meant to be concentrating, aye?” Merlin smirks. Arthur clears his throat and tries to think of something that isn't him sucking Merlin's long fingers into his mouth. Merlin pauses with the machine away from Arthur's skin, looks right at Arthur and whispers, so low that Arthur has to keep his eyes on Merlin's mouth to understand him,  “When we are done here we're going back to my place and we're going to fuck. But right now I need to concentrate so kindly stop breathing like you're in a bloody porn film.”

Arthur can't stop the effect Merlin's words have on him, and the rest of the session passes quickly with Arthur in a confused state of being both slightly in pain and fairly aroused.

When Merlin finishes the tattoo he takes a few photos of it before rubbing an ointment over it and wrapping it with cling film. Then they sort out payment and Arthur goes to leave.

“Here's my card. You'll need to come back in a few weeks so I can check the shading.”

Arthur looks down at the card to see Merlin's mobile number and home address, with _spare key under front mat_ scribbled on the back, and smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Emrys. I will be in touch.” Arthur says, then he shakes hands with the customers who had been waiting to meet him and, as he's signing a few autographs, he watches Merlin shut himself in his office only to be followed, two seconds later, by the same two staff members who had followed him before. Arthur laughs. Well, at least they'll have something to talk about.

[--]

“What were you two doing in our storage room?” Freya demands, arms crossed over her chest. Merlin knows he's due a bollocking, so instead of denying anything he just braces himself.

“You were having sex with him, yeah?” Gwaine says, and he looks both triumphant and jealous. Merlin only nods. “Fucking hell! What did you do to him in Glasgow that he tracked you down here?”

“You heard him today, didn't you? I've been telling you for years that I'm quite good at The Sex, Gwaine. It's your too bad that you never took part.”

“And my too bad that you’re gay. Now, please, tell me which surfaces I need to disinfect.” Freya says, shaking her head.

[--]

When Merlin gets home there's a suspiciously expensive hire car parked in his drive, and he smiles to himself at the idea of Arthur Pendragon not giving a toss if the paparazzi find him at his, Merlin's, house. Any one of the customers from the studio that afternoon could have called the papers.

When he gets to his house and shuts the door behind him all thoughts of tabloids and the outside world vanish completely. Arthur is naked and sat on a blanket on Merlin's sofa, condoms and lube sat on the coffee table, paging through back issues of tattoo magazines. Merlin pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his shoes, letting clothes and keys drop to the floor.

“I never did get a chance to tell you this, but now that you're here I might as well.” Merlin says, unbuttoning his trousers, “You are my celebrity One True Love.”

Arthur laughs and shakes his head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that on my list of five Celebrities I'm Allowed To Cheat on my Boyfriends With, you're numbers one through five.” Merlin says as he straddles Arthur and begins to kiss Arthur's neck.

“I guess I won't need to worry about you cheating on me, then.” Arthur says, his  hands firm on Merlin's hips. Merlin pulls back and looks Arthur in the eye. Arthur is not smiling, and his blue eyes are incredibly dark.

“What does that even mean?” Merlin asks, trying not to get ahead of himself. Arthur closes his eyes and lowers his head to outline Merlin's dragon tattoo with his tongue.

“I guess I'm asking if you'll be my boyfriend?” Arthur says, and he freezes in the act of kissing Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin doesn't even need to think about it. “Oh my god, yes.”

Arthur visibly relaxes. “Are you sure? I mean, the press and the tabloids. I'm not even out yet, this story is going to explode. Your life is about change completely.”

Merlin runs his hands over Arthur's chest and down between them, eliciting a gasp from Arthur. Then he grinds down with a sound of lust and longing, kissing Arthur through his moan.

“My life will change? Good. I wasn't all that attached to it, anyway.” Merlin says as Arthur traces his hands along Merlin's ribs, where the legs of the dragon are just visible.

[--]

They are face to face when Merlin starts to ride him, and Arthur can see the look of pleasure on Merlin's face. He kisses his boyfriend roughly, rejoicing in Merlin's grunts and sighs. And he thinks the dragon tattoo may be impressive as hell, but this is definitely the superior view.

**Fin.**


End file.
